


A Scene

by philosophicnachos



Category: History Boys (2006), History Boys - All Media Types, History Boys - Bennett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philosophicnachos/pseuds/philosophicnachos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Characters: two boys.<br/>Setting: a bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Scene

_Characters:_ two boys.

_Setting:_ a bedroom.

_Stage left:_ a lonely, messy bed with tangled red and grey sheets suspended in mid-fall as if they’d been carelessly tossed aside. Four books leaning precariously against the wall. A lanky, earnest, darling boy – blue eyes, soft locks, and a self-deprecating twist to his lips.

_Stage right:_ a desk. Two chairs. His lover.

_Cue lights._

POSNER: I won’t apologise. For last night. Unless you…

_[He has never made love before.]_

_[He hesitates, then prods gently.]_

POSNER: Did you like the bourbon, at least? I mean, I know the Bible says you shouldn’t drink, but – well.

SCRIPPS: The Bible also doesn’t look too favourably on shagging boys, or breaking celibacy vows.

_[He has never made love before, either.]_

_[A pause.]_

POSNER: _[Unyielding, yet with a hint of accusation that he fails to hide.]_ You’re going to bloody blame me?

SCRIPPS: No. _[Another pause – a short and soundless moment, his hands on the back of a chair, his gaze bolted to the ground.]_ There’s nothing worth blaming.

POSNER: _[Bitterly, like coffee and rusty piano keys. Like the after-taste of love.]_  Of course not.

SCRIPPS: Pos…

POSNER: I wasn’t drunk. Only at the beginning, a bit. But I wasn’t drunk when we ---

SCRIPPS: Fucked?

POSNER: We didn’t fuck.

SCRIPPS: Yes, we did. And you pretended I was Dakin. [ _He holds up a hand and smiles. A beautiful boy, with sunlight dancing harshly along the cut of his jaw. A tired, resigned boy. His skin tastes like happiness.]_ ‘S alright, Pos. I get it.

POSNER: You told me it’ll pass. _[He is desperate now. He does not want to let this slip through his fingers, dampen his skin with tears and rain. He wants an opera. He wants a happily ever after. He wants poetry and beauty and the world at their feet.]_

SCRIPPS: Did it?

POSNER: Yes.

SCRIPPS: Liar.

POSNER: You believe me, though.

_[He does.]_

SCRIPPS: That’s because I want to.

POSNER: Same with God, I guess.

SCRIPPS: No, Pos.

_[He believes in God because it makes sense, creates order and logic and reason. But Posner is different, Posner is lovely, and there is absolutely nothing about his imperfection that makes any sense at all. A love-trodden boy, with eyelashes that sweep his cheekbones like snowflakes. A hopeful, honest boy. His skin tastes like tenderness.]_

SCRIPPS: Not at all.

_Blackout_.


End file.
